Dear Cotton Candy Head…
by Call me cat333
Summary: Haymitch Abernathy was forced into therapy after the rebellion. After his therapist learns about his feelings for a certain pink haired escort, she suggests writing a love letter to Effie. He would not have to send it and he sure as heck won't. But by accident it was delivered to Ms.Trinket. Does the Cotton Candy haired women love him back? M for language.


Disclaimer: I own nothing Hunger Games related. This is MY plot however and I own Luna. Trust me if I had to own any character, it would be Finnick.

Warning: Cursing.

Haymitch Abernathy was not in a good mood. He ran out of liquor and all the stores were close. He had no bottle to nurse. He had nothing to distract him from the nervous pit forming in his stomach. He felt nauseous. (Being nauseous was not from the hang over mind you.)For those who were brave enough they might say he was _**scared**_. It all started yesterday. And it was his fucking therapist's fault. She called it the fucking "recreation process" It was suppose to change him into a new man. One who no longer lived in hatred or didn't have to nurse a bottle to be happy.

FLASHBACK (Yesterday)

It has been 3 years since the rebellion. Yet I was still stuck going to the damn Capitol. They still look like fucking skittles. They still are stupid and they still wear freakish wigs. Well most do anyway. But that is not the point.

I was stuck going to the Capitol because of therapy. That word alone makes me take a swig of my liquor. The new government of Panem decided that they need the past mentor and victor of the wonderful District 12 to be at least _somewhat_ sane. Apparently not only am I an alcoholic, but I am also a angry person. Me? Angry? No. Why would I be angry? I mean it's not like the Capitol made me kill children when I was a tribute? Or kill my family or the only girl I ever loved.

I subconsciously remembered a certain pink haired escort. Maybe not the _only_ girl I ever loved.

I flung opened the mahogany door and sat in the waiting room occasionally taking a swig of my liquor.

I eyed the mahogany door and smiled hearing Effie's voice echo in my mind. "That is mahogany!"

That was the first real smile I had for the first time in months and I swayed side to side, letting the liquor take control.

I slumped into a mustard colored chair in the waiting room. As soon as I got comfortable putting my feet on the coffee table, the she-devil walked in.

She had a red tail, that would occasionally move like a feline. She had red straight hair that reminded me of ketchup and pale skin. Her name: Luna. She walked into her office motioning me to follow her. I got up, walked into her office and sat in a cushiony red chair.

"Last session we talked about that girl, Effie. You said you loved her but you want to forget about her. Why?" She said. Her eyes were full of excitement. It's like I'm her new source of entertainment since the Hunger Games ended.

I sighed, taking two large swigs of my liquor, which caused her to glare. She didn't say anything about my drinking problem because last session, when she did mention it, I threw a glass bottle at her. I was too intoxicated for it hit her, so it hit her desk. She screamed and started to curse at me. I recalled her saying, "That is mahogany!" I accidentally said Effie Trinket under my breath. This is how the bitch knew I loved Effie.

"Listen here, _sweetheart. _I'm not fucking talking about it." I said putting as much venom in voice. I think I slurred my words more than anything though.

She looked at me calmly. "Then write it,_ darling_." She said. Looking right at me, daring me.

I looked up curiously. I motioned for her to continue.

"I've had a patient, she lost her sister. It helped her to write a letter to her dead sister. It recreated her. It made her feel happier. Like she got to say what she had too. I never read the letter. The letter would be for your eyes only. I call it, the recreation process." She said, looking into a compact mirror, adjusting her wig.

"Funny. I'd call it the Stupid fuck process." I glared at her. I slurred the word fuck so it sounded more like duck then fuck. But she knew what I meant.

"Glad you like it. Here is a pen and paper, get to it." She said, dismissing me.

I sighed and accepted it. I was to drunk and tired anymore. I took a few swigs of liquor until my flask was empty and started to write.

"_**Dear Cotton Candy Head….."**_

AUTHORS NOTE: Hi guys! What do you think so far? I want honest opinions. I plan on making this 3 chapters. The letter and some drama will be next. I plan on making this funnier. So do you like the mahogany references? What did you think?

Tootles!

Xoxo

Iris.


End file.
